notonous," do I hear some one say? It was monotony such as would have ended too soon though it had lasted forever. If I had a thousand dollars to spend in an afternoon's sport now, I should not know how to get half as much exhilaration out of it as two hours on that snow-covered slope afforded. There is something in a boy's spirits that a man's money can never buy, nor a man's will bring back to him.
As years passed, we ventured farther from home to a steeper and longer declivity. Glorious hours we spent there, every boy riding his own sled after his own fashion. Boys who were boys rode "side-saddle" or "belly-bump;" but here and there a timid soul, or one who considered the toes of his boots, condescended to an upright position, feet foremost, like a girl—in the language of the polite people, sur son séant.
Later still came the day of the double-runner, when we slid down-hill gregariously, as it were, or, if you will, in chorus (the word is justified), every boy's arms clinging to the boy in front of him. Older fellows now took a hand with us, and we resorted
